


but you only wanted me (the way you wanted me)

by AntheaGunn



Series: I love you is always a quotation [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, I love you is always a quotation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 02:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntheaGunn/pseuds/AntheaGunn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa doesn't end up homeless, after all. Which is about the only positive thing that can be said of her current situation.- Sequel to "we'll paint the world red and blue".</p>
            </blockquote>





	but you only wanted me (the way you wanted me)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta Becky, whom I'm driving mad with questions.

Lexa doesn't end up homeless, after all. Which is about the only positive thing that can be said of her current situation.

She still feels her insides freeze as she thinks about that fateful day. Her mother had come back one hour early from work and upon entering her daughter's room she had found the two girls laying on the bed, all tangled limbs and wandering hands.

And her reaction is what worries Lexa the most, because every time she had thought about her parents finding out about her and Clarke, all the possible scenarios unraveling in her mind like black tendrils, she had imagined yelling, and cold stares, and hurtful, hurtful words.  
Instead her mother had simply stayed there, frozen, observing them for what seemed to Lexa like an infinite amount of time, and then had closed the door, gently, and gone downstairs, leaving the two equally frozen girls alone in the room.

It must have been at least ten minutes before she had heard Clarke's voice whispering beside her.  
“Well... that's not how I thought it would go if we were ever caught,” Clarke had said.  
“No.”  
The girl had turned towards Lexa, cupping her cheek to be able to look her in the eye. “Hey, are you okay? I mean... obviously you're not okay right now but... are you going to be okay? I mean, do you think you're going to be okay? Because of course you can't see the future, so it's only a hopeful prediction-”  
“Clarke.”  
Clarke's forehead had found refuge in the hollow of Lexa's neck, and her voice had been trembling when she had whispered, “Please, don't leave me.”  
“Why would I leave you?”  
“Because your mother knows, and you must be obviously upset, and you were terribly afraid of this exact thing happening, and your parents will surely insist that you break up with me.”  
“I'm not breaking up with you, Clarke,” she had replied, taking her girlfriend's face into her hands, holding her tentative smile between her thumbs.  
“You will never loose me,” she had promised.

They had put on their shoes and Lexa had escorted Clarke outside, promising to call her as soon as she could.

She had figured that her mother simply didn't want to cause a scene in front of Clarke, so she had tried to prepare herself for the slaughter that she was sure was about to take place the moment she entered the kitchen.  
However, much to Lexa's bewilderment, Rebecca had just raised her head for a moment in a silent aknowledgement and, albeit with an even colder voice than usual, had informed her that dinner would be served at seven sharp and had suggested she went up to take a shower and change.

 

In the following weeks, every time she had found herself alone with her parents, Lexa had waited for the inevitable confrontation. For the shouting, and the threatening, and the disappointed glares.   
But every time she had been mistaken. Her parents had been distant, that's true, even more than usual, but they had never said anything.  
After a while Clarke had suggested that maybe they were choosing to ignore the revelation on Lexa's sexuality, hoping that she would change her mind, and Lexa had agreed.

That's the reason why, as she slowly comes back to the present, she's so shocked that she has to ask her mother to repeat herself at least three times.  
“You heard me, Alexandra. We want you to invite Clarke over for dinner. Saturday evening, preferably.”  
“You are serious,” Lexa replies, astonished. “You're actually serious. Is this a prank? Is someone filming this?”  
“Oh, stop with the nonsense, please. And stop staring, you know it's not polite.”  
“Uhm, I'm sorry. I'm just... surprised, I guess. I thought you wanted nothing to do with Clarke, now that you know we're together.”  
“Please darling... I've known for a long time. You and Clarke have always been very... close. It wasn't hard to imagine that your relationship might extend beyond the boundaries of a platonic companionship.”  
“Wait... you knew? And you never said anything?”  
Her mother fixes her with a blank stare, clearly bothered by her daughter's temper. “Well, I determined that as long as you two kept it for yourself, it wasn't necessary for me to be involved in how you choose to conduct your private life.”  
“And you never thought that maybe I would have liked to talk about this life changing realization with my own mother? That maybe I felt scared, and lonely, and I needed my parents' comfort?”  
“I would suggest you watch your tone, Alexandra. You've never had to ask for anything. Your father and I have slaved ourselves, because we wanted you to have nothing but the best, and that's how you repay us? Maybe your father's right, we've been pampering you too much.”  
“That's not...” Lexa starts but, suddenly realizing the futility of her words, stops. “I would like to know why you are suddenly so interested in Clarke, that's all.”  
Rebecca's face carefully rearranges itself into a bored expression, any sign of her previous distress gone. “Don't be so wary, darling... we just want to get to know her a little.”   
The woman looks down at her watch, “I have to go now. The invitation is for eight o clock, try to be here at least half an hour early for drinks.”   
Rebecca picks up her bag and approaches the door.  
“Oh and please, love, try not to wear your hair down, I repeatedly told you it doesn't suit you.”

/

“She said what?”  
“Please, don't make me repeat it,” Clarke implores from where her head rests in between her hands.  
Raven is silent for a few seconds, before she suddenly starts laughing as if Clarke being forced to have dinner with Lexa's parents is the funniest thing she's ever heard in her life.   
“Wow... wait,” she exclaims, turning in her seat to have a better look at her friend. “You're actually doing it? You're actually going to spend an entire evening with Scar and Cruella?”  
“Shut up,” Clarke hushes. “Don't let Lexa hear you say that.”  
“Oh please,” Raven continues, unperturbed. “May I remind you that that woman tried to have Mr. Morriss fired when she found out that he's married to another man?”  
“I know but... what can I do? It's not like I have any other option. Lexa isn't happy about this either, but we have no choice. It's a miracle they haven't kicked her out.”

At that Raven sombers up, an understanding look crossing her face.  
“How's she holding up? I mean, things must be less than ideal at home now that her parents know about you guys.”  
“She's okay. Well, as okay as she can be. Robert mostly ignores her, and Rebecca only talks to her to criticise how she chooses to dress, how she styles her hair, or the fact that she got her first B ever on a test. But that's nothing new.”  
“Fuck... If it was me I would probably have started banging my head on the wall. Or, you know, banging their heads on the wall,” she says with a smirk.  
“I don't doubt that for a second,” Clarke replies laughing and is soon joined by Raven herself.  
“We just have to be patient,” she continues, “it's only a few months till graduation and then... freedom.”  
“Yeah, about that,” Raven replies, “have you actually thought about what you're going to do? I mean, you've been accepted both at Cornell and NYU and you haven't even told anybody. The deadline for confirmation is close. Like aneurysm inducing close. You have to decide. ”  
“I know. It's just...” she takes a deep breath. “My mom wants me to study medicine.”  
“And you don't want to do that.”  
“No, I don't.”  
“Well, then tell her. Go straight to her and say: Mom, I'm going to art school and spend the rest of my life cleaning museums' toilets.”  
“Thanks, Raven.”  
“Hey, blame the economy, not me. Anyway, why not?”  
“Because since my father died she's been working day and night just so I could graduate high school. And the only thing she's ever wanted was for me to become a doctor. To do what she could not do for herself.”  
“There's nothing wrong with being a nurse. I don't think she's ashamed of the choices she had to make during her life.”  
“No, but she had to let go of her dream because of me. Because she got pregnant with me. I ruined her chance and now I should go to her and tell her that I'm not going to do the only thing she's ever asked of me, the thing she's sacrificed her time and her sweat for? How can I do that?”  
“Well, if you're so sure that's the right choice, why haven't you sent the confirmation yet?”  
Clarke stares at something far away behind Raven's head.   
“I don't know.”

//

Clarke has always prided herself on not caring about what other people think of her. Be it her classmates, her professors, or anyone else at all.  
She's always been proud of being herself, of saying what's on her mind, of dressing the way she wants to.  
But.  
Tonight she has dinner with Lexa's diabolical parents and despite feeling absolutely disgusted at herself she wants everything to be perfect. For Lexa.   
Because she still remembers how defeated she had sounded, eyes empty and voice flat, when Clarke had tried to comfort her about the situation. “It's alright, Clarke,” Lexa had breathed into the cold night air, “I accepted a long time ago that my parents love appearances much more than they love me.” 

That's why her room is currently a mess, clothes and shoes thrown everywhere. After going back and forth for more than an hour she has finally set her mind on a black a-line dress coupled with a soft white sweater.  
She looks like she's just come out from Sunday mass.  
She hates herself.

“Wow, I don't think I've seen you this elegantly dressed since your Aunt Sandra's funeral,” Abby comments coming into the room.  
“Dinner at Lexa's house.”  
Her mother stares. “That's new.”  
“Yeah...”  
She has just finished putting on her shoes when her mother speaks again. “Clarke,” she starts, “I wanted to talk to you for a second.”  
“About what?”  
“About this.” In Abby's hand is an envelope. The only thing Clarke is able to make out is a logo. Precisely, the logo of the New York School of Visual Arts.   
The same School of Visual Arts that Clarke had applied to together with every medical school in New York, trying to ease the anxiety she could feel rising inside her.  
The same School of Visual Arts she had decided to keep a secret from everybody, especially her mother.

“Mom... I-I can explain.”  
“Clarke, calm down honey. I'm not mad.”  
“Really?”  
“Really. Clarke, I never wanted you to study something you weren't passionate about. I would be lying if I said that a part of me wasn't trying to project my dreams onto you. And I'm sorry for that. I understand why you didn't tell me about applying to this school, but that's not the relationship I want us to have. I'm your mother, Clarke. I'll always support you. Do you understand?”  
“I do,” Clarke answers, and Abby takes her hand.  
“Good. Now, let's find out if you actually got in.”  
Clarke laughs, relieved, and for the first time in weeks she feels like she can breath again.   
“Okay... okay. I'll open it.” She takes the envelope into her hands.   
“No wait, you open it,” she backfires, hands trembling.   
Abby starts taring the lid apart, while Clarke paces the room.  
“Stop, stop,” the girl exclaims suddenly, “I'll open it.”  
Abby laughs, warmed by her daughter's excitement.  
Clarke is silent as she reads, her face blank, and for a moment Abby is seriously worried that the night is going off to a really bad start, but then Clarke's all body relaxes.  
“Well?” Abby asks.  
“I got in,” Clarke whispers, looking like she can't believe her own eyes. “I got in.”  
“Congratulations honey!” Abby exclaims, hugging her daughter again. “I'm so proud of you.”  
“I can't believe it,” Clarke answers, tears in her eyes. “Mom... thank you.”  
“Don't thank me. Be proud of yourself. Your talent and your determination brought you here.”

Abby observes her daughter. Clarke is strong and delicate at the same time, smart and brave and sweet and caring. She's everything Abby had hoped for when she had felt her kick inside her for the first time, all those years ago. She holds Clarke again for a second, then releases her.  
“Now go. You can't be late at your first dinner with Lexa's parents.”  
Clarke looks at her and her hands are still trembling.  
“Mom... there's something you need to know, about Lexa.” Clarke takes her mother's hand in her own. “I love her. I look at her and I want to paint the entire world the color of her eyes. I want to dance with her like you and dad used to.”  
“Oh Clarke,” Abby responds. “I know, baby. I've known for a long time.”  
Clarke is petrified, just looking at her mother, not saying anything.  
“Darling,” Abby continues, “you and Lexa started holding hands when you were seven and you never stopped. But I wanted you to feel comfortable enough to come out on your own terms, for you to be free to tell me when you were ready for me to know.”  
“I... mom...” It's impossible to convey the extent of her feelings in this moment, but in the end Clarke doesn't need many words. “I love you Mom, so much.”  
“I know baby. Now come on, or you'll be late.”  
“Alright. I'm going. Thank you. I love you.”  
“I love you too,”Abby replies, but Clarke is already gone, a whirlwind of passion and laughter, as bright as the sun.

///

**Author's Note:**

> find me @ eyleeen.tumblr.com


End file.
